


The Great Trash Panda Adventure (Falcon Remix)

by Lucifuge5



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Fluff and Crack, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Male Friendship, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Black Panther (2018), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 01:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14367651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifuge5/pseuds/Lucifuge5
Summary: "So, when you said "Sam, I need a favor", you weren't asking for backup?" Sam shifted his gaze from Steve's confused face to what he washolding. "Because I could've sworn you mentioned it being Avengers-related and this, um, doesn't look like it could be classified as such."The bundle unrolled itself into a medium-sized raccoon. Undignified as it was, Sam yelped in surprise. The hell was Steve doing with that thing in his arms?





	The Great Trash Panda Adventure (Falcon Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heuradys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heuradys/gifts).



> Written as part of the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico auction.
> 
> Inspired by [this amazing piece](http://falcondiment.tumblr.com/post/146729085045/and-i-love-them-all-in-fact-i-want-this-trope-a) by the super-talented Falconcondiment.
> 
> Many h/t to Mizface for her patient beta and steady encouragement. You're the best!
> 
> Heuradys, I hope reading this fic will be as enjoyable to you as writing it was for me. :D

Sam should've known better. He had gotten closer to Steve over the past few years. So, how could he ever forget Steve Rogers was a great coworker, but a _terrible_ friend?

Being part of Steve's team changed Sam's life in awesome, if dangerous, ways. Captain America was the kind of leader who always had your back, the type of person who inspired others with earnest speeches. You really couldn't help but be charmed into fighting for a better future. It was virtually impossible. Unless you didn't have a soul, that is. 

Friend Steve, however, was an occasionally sarcastic man whose devotion to his best friend from 100 years ago had no limits. Sam had an idea or two about that. Going to war forged the kind of bond that was difficult to explain to civilians. Whether or not Steve's feelings toward Bucky were romantic was something that Sam decided to mark "no one's business" and put it away somewhere in the back of his mind.

He was intimately familiar with complicated feelings after catching himself looking at Bucky during sparring sessions. Also while in official Avengers meetings. Occasionally in the middle some of the less dangerous missions. OK so he had been nursing a crush on Steve's BFF. No one had to know. And so far, no one seemed to have noticed or, if they had, they'd chosen to not talk to him about it. 

Pushing his own attraction to Bucky aside had included a bittersweet lesson.

Sam had only truly slipped once, many months after finding Bucky. Between the jetlag and the three bottles of Guinness, Sam's propensity to flirt had him say a few mildly suggestive things at Bucky. Something that Bucky refused to acknowledge. His annoyance at the rejection must have shown up on his face for Steve told Sam to "give it time" the next morning during their usual run. And Sam had filed that away too. 

In any case, Steve wasn't in the habit of asking for help, so Sam was equal parts touched and curious as to why Steve had called him the night before his next mission. He'd sounded a little too casual over the phone.

This was his first time over in Steve's new apartment. Between Avengers-related things and trying to get his own life organized, Sam had been unable to be much help when Steve packed up the few things that he wanted to salvage from his apartment with the extra bullet holes in D.C.

All he knew was that Bucky had moved in too ("In separate bedrooms, Sam," Steve said mere seconds before Sam could even think of the question.) Sam ordered a Lyft and had a relaxing conversation with Héctor, a middle-aged Salvadorean man who loved Pink Floyd. He gave him a high rating and made sure to include a tip after they pulled up to Steve's place. 

If Sam was honest with himself, he had expected a more classic look, a brownstone perhaps. Everyone knew that Steve had a taste for what was affectionately called Old New York. Instead, he stood in front of a new building, the likes of which might've been designed by someone from Stark Enterprises. Sure, Steve had mentioned something about "being priced out of Brooklyn" during that party at Tony's last fall. But Sam had figured out that his friend was better off than he appeared to be. 

He was buzzed in even before he was even able to push the call button on the directory. Knowing Steve the way he did, Sam had no doubts that he'd been keeping an eye out for whenever Sam showed up on the street. He knocked on the door for apartment 1409, after a quick elevator ride, ready to help Steve however he could. 

A muffled "door's open" later, Sam made a face at whatever was making a screeching noise from somewhere in the apartment. "Hey, man. I just got two questions. One: what's this favor you're talking about?" He looked toward the hallway and the loud yowl that could've been anything from a large dog to a tiger. "And two: since when do you have a pet?"

"Hi, Sam," Steve said when he showed up in a casual white t-shirt and jeans, his eyes darting in the direction of what Sam could assume were the bedrooms. He looked a little frazzled, hair going every which way and body emanating the most anxious vibes ever. "Um. Yeah, about that…" Steve slid his right hand on the back of his head. Sam's eyes zoomed in on the ripped sleeve. It flapped whenever Steve moved his arm. "Maybe it'll be better if I show you. Stay put, OK?"

Sam frowned at Steve's retreating back. Had he just seen some vivid red _gashes_ on Steve's forearms? "Steve, what the hell is going on?"

"Just hold on a sec!"

There was a door slam followed by Steve talking to _whatever_ was in the other room in pleading tones. 

Deep down, Sam knew that Steve could take care of himself. But this was Steve "I Can Walk It Off" Rogers. For all Sam knew, he could be fighting a small team of Doombots or some intergalactic second-rate villain. Whatever it was, Sam was ready to join the fight. He let his body get into stealth mode, reaching into his pants for the small knife he'd gotten into the habit of carrying ever since becoming Falcon, when he was surprised by Steve's return.

"OK, I think he's calmed down a bit. Told him that you were here. Maybe that's what set him off. I don't know and, obviously, there's no way he can tell me at this moment," Steve said in one breath as he held a furry bundle in his arms. "Anyway, thanks for coming over. As you can see, right now, I'm a pretty desperate man."

"So, when you said "Sam, I need a favor", you weren't asking for backup?" Sam shifted his gaze from Steve's confused face to what he was _holding_. "Because I could've sworn you mentioned it being Avengers-related and this, um, doesn't look like it could be classified as such." 

The bundle unrolled itself into a medium-sized raccoon. Undignified as it was, Sam yelped in surprise. The hell was Steve doing with that thing in his arms? 

"Steve, I know you might think that I'm like you in how I don't get sick much and I passed my most recent physical with gold stars. But that doesn't explain why you'd think I'd ever be OK with being so close to an animal that can give me _rabies_." Sam took one step back, crossing his arms because what if that thing tried to jump at him? 

That raccoon looked angrier than Clint when he tried to drink decaf. It hissed like it was attempting to escape the clutches of Satan himself. "Seriously? Is that pet even legal in New York? Am I supposed to take it out for walkies?"

Steve frowned. "Uh, no? Sorry. Couldn't go into details when I called you. You never know who might be listening and this is a very delicate matter. New info came in yesterday morning about a Hydra building, possibly one of the last ones left, somewhere near Antarctica. It's going to be a tough mission because of the terrain, but that's not the problem. What _I'm_ worried about is leaving Bucky alone." Steve rubbed the top of the raccoon's head as if he was petting the world's weirdest looking cat. The raccoon did a series of weird noises Sam equated in his mind with the really bad death metal Pietro loved to blast while training.

Maybe Sam was losing his damn mind because it almost sounded like the raccoon was arguing with Steve. "Uh, since when is pet sitting an Avengers thing? And, between you and me, even though you're besties, I severely doubt Bucky will ever be cool with you naming your pet after him. Also, _again_ , since when do you have a pet? And why not something less maintenance heavy like a cat? Though I guess I've always seen you as more of a dog person..." Sam's tendency to ramble when nervous was something that Maria and Okoye always made fun of. 

Steve's eyebrows furrowed and he gave Sam what'd best be described as a bemused expression. "I don't have any pets, Sam."

Sam pointed at him with his chin. No way was he going to give that animal a chance to bite his fingers. "Sooo, what do you call _that_?"

Steve sighed. "Ok, let me start from the beginning. Like I said, I don't have any pets. Always wanted one when I was a kid but I could barely take care of myself let alone an animal. And it is Avengers-related: the favor has do with you watching over Bucky while I'm gone," he said as he tilted the raccoon's head for extra-emphasis.

Sam squinted back. "Dude, I know how you think this is funny, but April Fool's is not for another three months!"

"I know, Sam," Steve replied like he was explaining gravity to a child."This isn't a prank. See, Bucky has a, erm, _condition_. He's like me. Well, most of the time, he is. Sometimes, he's not."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"If you want to, sometime later, I'll give you a PowerPoint on it. Whatever else you might think I can guarantee you that this is Bucky." Steve shifted the racoon until it was resting on its right side. "This will confirm it. See? He even has a metal limb."

"Whaa-- _how_?" Sam stared at the metal paw on what would be human Bucky's left arm. Then he directed the full strength of his glare at Steve. "None of this is making sense!"

"I guess you need a minute or two, huh?" Steve dropped his shoulders and headed toward the living room, cradling the animal against his massive chest. He sat down on the brown leather sofa with careful movements, placing the raccoon on his lap. "Come on, I'll tell you what I know." He patted the empty seat next to him. 

"Nah, man, I'm cool," Sam replied as he made his way over to one of the matching leather recliners that were diagonal from the couch. Keeping his pace slower than usual was important. He'd watched enough nature shows and so he avoided making any sudden movements around the supposed "Bucky". 

In return, he got the Steve Rogers Eyeroll (™) followed by the I Can't Believe You Don't Trust Me Sigh (™). 

"Just because my shots are up-to-date doesn't mean I want to get bitten by a wild animal," Sam said in a low voice once he'd settled in. "I'm a city boy through and through."

"As am I and so is Bucky!" Steve replied, making a 'duh' expression.

The raccoon stared at Sam with more disinterest than he'd have expected. Then, he wiggled backwards, until only his head rested on one of Steve's thighs. The rest of his body spread out in a way that made Sam think of flattened dough.

"All right," Sam said, lifting his gaze to Steve, he sat back and made a "come at me" gesture with his right hand. "Let's have it, then. Tell me everything you know about our supposed furry friend there. Because I'm seriously seconds away from calling Thor, T'Challa, hell, maybe Stark himself to check your vitals starting with your brain."

Steve scritched the top of the raccoon's head with one hand and ran his other hand across his face. "Truth is, Sam, there isn't much to actually say. I don't know why Bucky shifts into _this_. And, even with all the work Shuri and her team did to heal Bucky's brain, Bucky doesn't remember much either. Obviously, there isn't anyone else who could fill in the blanks."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam had an idea that he was giving Steve the most skeptical facial expression. "Obviously."

"Best we figured, some of it has to do with Zola's version of the serum."

"Why?" Sam frowned. It's not like Steve was-- "Do _you_ become, I don't know, a golden retriever once a month too?"

Steve shook his head. "Nu-huh. Not once. Before or after I went into the ice. I'm human through and through. The same is not true for Bucky, as you can see."

"So, getting the bootleg version of the serum results in some wacky side effects. Got it." Sam rose an eyebrow. "Mind telling me when was it that you noticed your buddy from way back when had a knack for becoming, you know, that?"

"Umm," Steve looked up, pausing on his petting, which in turn elicited a growl from the raccoon. He started petting it anew. "Sometime after we got to Wakanda? Dr. Nabtaka did a full panel of tests three times because she said and I quote: "His DNA is altered in ways I am not sure how to explain." Then she met with Bucky to run more tests. 

I started to get nervous. You know how I get around doctors. Especially after everything that had happened. Plus, we had just reunited. Still, Bucky was acting kind of weird. I had read everything Hydra had done to him which meant I had an idea or two about what was going on. Or so I thought." He pursed his lips. "Eventually, my worry pushed Bucky to tell me. Didn't believe him at first, of course. I thought he was pulling my leg too. This one afternoon, we got into a heavy argument. We didn't come to blows, but there was a lot of yelling…" Steve grimaced then, momentarily lost to the memory. 

"He, um, changed in front of me. Mostly to shut me up. Was cranky about doing that, but I guess he felt he had no other choice. Apparently, he noticed he could do that after the Triskellion fight. We're not sure, but it's safe to assume he was probably always able to switch, but didn't remember because, you know, the memory wipes."

Sam nodded a few times, giving his brain time to catch up with what Steve had told him. "OK, putting aside what you just told me, because, let's be real, that's a _lot_ , why now?"

"I couldn't--" Steve sighed again. "Normally, it's not a problem. Bucky shifts seasonally and I can work my schedule around it so I can keep an eye on him when he changes. This time is different. He's already a raccoon; it takes him a few days to be able to switch back to human. I'm the lead in the mission, and we gotta move on the intel before the trail gets too cold to follow up on it. As much as I care about the others, you're the only other person I'd trust with this secret, Sam. Bucky is, well, he's kinda vulnerable in this form. I also know you'll protect him."

"So I'm, like, your Obi-Wan, huh? Which would make you Princess Leia.” Steve gave Sam a "yeah, I get that reference" look. Sam rolled his eyes in return. "Huh, _that's_ why you changed the roster. Which uncool, Steve. I mean, what if I had planned to go off the grid for a few days with a honey?"

Steve ignored the pretend hurt tone in Sam's voice. "Right, as if we both don't know who said honey might be." He cleared his throat, glancing at Bucky for a few seconds because, sometimes, Steve didn't know how to be subtle. 

Sam scowled in return. For the millionth time, he once again regretted the drunken confession he'd given Steve about his growing crush on Bucky. "Not cool, Rogers," he said with the hardest voice he could muster up. 

"Anyway," Steve said,"The mission shouldn't take longer than three, maybe four days at the most. The team will be incommunicado, but there really isn't much to taking care of Bucky."

After everything he'd lived, even _before_ joining the Avengers, who was Sam to say that the dude he'd been crushing on didn't grow fur and walked around on all fours now and again? "All right, all right. I give in. I'll watch over your pal. And I'm assuming I'll be sleeping over. Because you probably want to keep my current landlord unaware about this, right?"

"Yeah. Bucky's asked me to keep this on a need-to-know basis. I doubt Tony is _anywhere_ near that list." Steve shrugged. He pushed the raccoon's head off his thigh and stood up. "So, are we cool?"

"For the record, I think you're gonna owe me a lot of downtime after this. Or at least a lot of favors," Sam said. He exhaled as he rose from his seat. "Now, tell me what's there to know about looking after the little rascal."

Steve gave him one of his most earnest smiles and clasped his left hand on Sam's right shoulder. "I can write you a list while you head back to your place and pack a bag."

"I'll be back in an hour," Sam said after Steve let him go. He tapped his phone and started searching for Lyft. "One last thing: he scratches me, you and I are gonna have a serious sit down convo about workplace hazards."

Steve made a shoving gesture at him. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you return, the sooner I can go Avenging and come back here."

"Hey, I was just pointing out that you white dudes really like to make your lives way more complicated than you need to," Sam said with mock seriousness. 

"Sam…"

"OK, OK, I'm going. But, just so you know, you're really gonna me owe me, Steve."

Steve crossed his arms, a tiny smile forming on his face, "I have no doubt about that."

 

**Rules for taking care of Bucky**

 

_1\. Make sure to put him in his room overnight_

"Listen, furball, even if you've been friends with Steve since before computers existed, it doesn't mean that you can stay out here. You know it and I know it." Sam peered under the sofa for a while longer. Bucky had wiggled his body into the small space shortly after Steve had left and had refused to come out from his hiding place ever since. 

Sam sat back on his legs. Much as he hated it (because it made him think of Bucky in terms of animal and not, you know, person), it was time to lure him out with the promise of Something Tasty (™). He stood up, shaking that pins and needles feeling off his legs as he walked to the kitchen, keeping his pace so chill he might as well be strolling through Central Park on a mild Spring day.

He fiddled with the locked cabinet for a moment, opting to bypass the cold storage in the fridge labeled _Bucky's Other Food_ in Steve's blocky print. This wasn't the moment to go looking for one of the containers with stomach-turning things like mealworms and other things that smelled hellishly funky. Not this late into the night. Not at all. 

After rummaging through the different snacks (Steve liked to blame Bucky for the amount of junk food, but Sam knew that Steve would go weak-kneed over Ding-Dongs and jalapeño potato chips), he found and opened a package of the almond and fig cookies from that vegan bakery a few blocks over. 

"OK, buddy," he said, laying down on his stomach, when he returned to the living room. "I've got a delicious extra treat for you that I'm ready to hand over if, and only if you come out from under there." He leaned on his left forearm as he extended his right hand, the small cookie resting on the middle of his palm. Sam made a few pleased noises in addition to waving the cookie around because why not. The sooner he could put Bucky away for the night, the sooner he could get some much needed sleep. 

Bucky moved his head this way and that, his beady gaze returning to Sam's hand every time. 

"This is a one-time deal," Sam added. "I'm serious here," he said as convincingly as he could. 

Whether it was his tone or the sweet temptation, Sam wasn't sure. He simply stayed where he was, the way he'd seen Clint when he was aiming a difficult shot. It was tough, but he bit back a giggle when Bucky twitched his nose and huffed. 

It became even harder to keep his cool when he saw one of Bucky's little paws reaching out for the cookie like his life depended on it. Sam was no fool though. He'd positioned himself close enough to be able to see Bucky while keeping a good distance from the sofa. 

Bucky did a short growl of frustration after his fifth attempt at snatching the cookie, then crawled out trying to look dignified and failing at it.

Sam didn't miss the murderous glare Bucky gave him once he stood in front of the sofa. The weirdest thing was how Sam could _see_ that it was Bucky staring at him and not a random animal. 

"Thank you," he said after a couple of seconds of staring at each other. "Now, this is how it's gonna go: we'll head to your room together, I'll hand you the cookie, and then, I'll leave for the guest bedroom after closing your bedroom door."

Bucky bared his fangs a little, then sat down with a little huff Sam chose to interpret as _I guess_.

"Cool. Come on." Sam slowed down his usual pace. At 5'10", his strides were already longer than Bucky's in his raccoon form. Plus, he didn't want to accidentally step on the dude's tail. He would never live that down. 

Besides, the soft tap-tap of Bucky's claws on the wood floor reassured him that Bucky was following instructions. 

"Well, here you go," Sam said, bending down to give Bucky the cookie. The last thing he saw as he locked the door was Bucky dunking the cookie in his water bowl before taking his first bite.

oOo

Sam had never been a light sleeper. During his tours, he discovered a knack for being able to zonk out under any condition and through most situations. What gave him trouble was waking up. Well, unless his body had realized he was in danger.

So the fact that he went from totally asleep to full blown wakefulness freaked him out. The rush of adrenaline, his mind sliding into a hyper-alert mode, added to the momentary confusion. "I'm safe," he said in between deep breaths, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness."I'm safe. Safe…" Whether it was force of habit or a result from his Avengers-training, he scanned the room. Sam was sure it hadn't been one of the usual nightmares involving Riley or being imprisoned in the Raft what had woken him up. No. It'd been _something_ else.

"What the hell?" He scrambled off his bed, the bed sheet tangled around his lower body, and hopped away, almost one-legged, from the lumpy figure on the farthest corner of the queen-sized bed. "I made sure to lock the door! This is not cool, man. Not cool. At. All."

Despite the blackout curtains, enough light seeped through to reflect on Bucky's eyes, adding a slightly otherworldly glint to them.

 

_2\. Keep an eye out on electric plugs at all times!_

"Yeah, you better stay there," Sam said, pressing his thumb on the fingerprint lock for the metal container with the _Take One If Something Happens_ label. He rummaged through the vibranium-coated chargers for one that had a plug similar to the one he used for his phone.

It was already embarrassing that it had taken him nearly all day to figure out that his phone's charge hadn't increased. Part of the blame fell on poor sleep. (Three nightly visits from Bucky was all Sam needed to accept that the first rule was a moot one. It was true he could always block the guest bedroom's door with something heavy but that felt like tempting fate.).

Other highlights included the Incident of the Chewed-on Shoelaces (which was followed by the Great Missing Socks Caper of 2018) and the Vanishing of Sam's Favorite Scarf Event. 

"Here I was thinking that you'd avoid electricity after all you've been through. And yet, here we are," he grumbled after finally plugging in his phone and seeing it go from totally dead to charging. "What if Steve had called, huh? What then?" 

He shook his own charger at Bucky, the exposed cord flailing like the arms of those inflatable things in front of car dealerships. "Don't go thinking you're free and clear from this, by the way. I'll make sure you buy me a new, top of the line charger once you join us humans again."

Resting way high above on a cupboard, Bucky did a series of short screeches that, to Sam, sounded a lot like cackling.

 

_3\. Keep all containers closed_

Raccoon's paws were pretty dexterous to begin with. Sam had some idea of how much based on the occasional raccoon vids that showed up on social media. 

Bucky's forepaws were even more efficient. The stealth and know-how of the Winter Soldier + Bucky's intelligence meant that Sam tried to remember the third rule the most. He tried, OK?

But Sam wasn't perfect. So he had no one else to blame but himself when he found Bucky happily licking his snout, a glass jar of what had once been Sam's homemade chai concentrate totally emptied out next to him.

He'd been watching a particularly riveting moment in the series he'd been marathoning. It'd made sense to him that Bucky would avoid the still-cooling liquid. Besides, he was just going to rewind and pause the show. He'd be right back.

(He wasn't right back. Instead he watched the next two episodes.)

Had it not been for the loud belch he heard from the kitchen, it would've taken him a bit longer to find out about Bucky's secret mission to annoy Sam even when four-legged and unable to speak.

 

_4\. Snacks only in small amounts_

Sam could've said that it had something to do with Bucky's own suspicious nature amplified by whatever being a raccoon felt like. Aside from the bedroom break-ins, Bucky had kept away from Sam. Until the afternoon on Day 4.

The main reason this time around was super clear: Sam had just made a large bowl of popcorn as he got ready for a mini-marathon of a cheesy and predictable police drama. 

He heard, rather than saw, Bucky running from his room (where he'd been hanging upside down for reasons Sam didn't want to know) and coming to a sudden stop right at the edge of the plush, dark green rug in front of the sofa. Sam flicked his gaze to the right and then back to the TV. He'd seen Bucky's snout for a second. 

Sam munched on some popcorn as he waited to see what Bucky was going to do. All Sam wanted was some peace and quiet as the TV detectives solved a crime in an hour.

Next time he glanced over, Bucky had gotten over his shyness and was actively trying to climb onto the sofa. Sam would probably never tell a living soul, but Bucky's attempts were hilarious. For starters, Bucky was massive for a raccoon. Easily 35, maybe even 40 pounds. Steve had carried him around like he weighed nothing. But then, Steve could probably bench press his motorcycle without breaking a sweat. 

No longer bothering to hide his fascination with the goings on, Sam kept on eating popcorn, observing the metal paw whenever Bucky extended it. Sam guessed Bucky wasn't trying to grab the cushion too hard, though. Those claws were so sharp that they could probably cut through almost anything. The design was close enough to Bucky's flesh right paw, only less gnarly and a heck of a lot more lethal-looking. 

Amusing as it was seeing Bucky fail and do a little huff of annoyance every single time, Sam didn't want to explain to Steve why his brand new couch was all scratched up. Even if the damage was all Bucky's fault. 

"Hold on, Bucky. I don't want to be blamed for your shredding of the sofa," Sam said after one rather nasty-sounding _riiiip_. Although it was unlikely that Bucky would run away with the entire bowl, he would definitely make a mess while snatching it from Sam. And it was just as unlikely that he'd help with the cleanup. He scooted to the right, placed the bowl on empty space to his left, and folded from the waist up to scoop Bucky up. 

"Careful," he wheezed when he felt ten little knife points sink on his forearms as he lifted all of Bucky. "I don't heal as fast as Steve."

Once he landed, Bucky leaned forward on all fours, eyes glued to the popcorn. He jumped, doing a funny squeak, when Sam spoke next. 

"How about you get comfortable over there," he said while pointing at the far right corner," and I'll give you some to munch on?"

Bucky flicked an ear for a few moments before wobbling on all fours and doing a close approximation of "tired generic dude sitting down with a beer" pose. For the first time since this whole Bucky-sitting business began, Sam regretted not having his phone handy. It would have been a really cute picture. Or, at the very least, excellent blackmail material. 

Sam grabbed a handful of popcorn, apparently overestimating the amount as Bucky's paws caught a few and the rest fell on his furry belly. After gobbling down what he'd snatched, Bucky went on picking the popcorn on his stomach without much care. He mimicked washing his food every so often because _raccoon_.

OK, that was even cuter. Damn.

 

_4\. If Bucky gets dirty, a bath is OK._

After almost an hour and a half of playing with Bucky (with bonus!faint scratches on his forearms to show for it) and making sure that he had enough snacks and a fresh bowl of water, Sam changed into a fresh pair of running shorts and a soft, maroon t-shirt with a faded USAF Paratroopers yellow and white logo. He ended up tying up his sneakers using some shoelaces he'd borrowed from Bucky's closet. 

Today, he'd woken up with the urge to shake off some of the gunk out of his mind. Running was something he equally hated and loved: it left him wrung out in a deeply satisfying way. Yet he also actively curse every single second he spend pounding the pavement or, in this case, the treadmill. 

Now that things during his staycation had settled down-- Bucky no longer snarled at him and hissing was only for whenever Sam took a shower --Sam wanted a mini-break. Five days in an apartment with no one else to talk to but a raccoon who had once been a brainwashed assassin he had a crush on was five days too long. 

He did one last cursory check of the place, smiling gently when he saw Bucky perching on one of the branches closest to the ceiling, his little legs hanging over the sides like he was the tiredest raccoon in all of the land. One discreet photo later, Sam left the apartment, making sure the front door would do a soft click behind him. 

Sam fought the temptation of going out into the street: running in the city was always fun. He enjoyed the feeling of the world zooming by, similar to what he experienced whenever he wore his wings, but on a closer level. He let the moment pass, however, since he was far from properly dressed to deal with the cold weather. Then, he pressed the button for the second floor while scrolling through the music library on his phone. There was a good 30-minute mix that would fit just right with what he had in mind this morning. 

He nodded hello to a guy by the weights (who was not subtly at all checking Sam out) and gave a quick smile to the two women on the elliptical machines.Ceiling to floor windows offered a distraction of sorts. The view was that of a moderate-size park, now looking a bit bare in winter. Sam programmed the machine for 4.5 miles and started to do a gentle jog.

Thirty minutes later, he had a nice sweat going and the restlessness he'd felt upon waking had faded away. Like always, that first mile back was the hardest. He'd done a quick stretch before getting on the treadmill and all. And yet, he didn't feel his body giving into the pace until the mile counter changed from 1 to 2. Sam glanced at the chest press machine on his way out, half-wishing he had more time to get into a longer workout. Just then, his watch beeped and he hurried up his steps. Bucky had been left alone for a while now. Sam shuddered when he tried to imagine how much trouble Bucky could get into.

Maybe he had something like a "Bucky had misbehaved" sense wired in his mind. Or maybe he had learned up close and personal what Bucky could do in his raccoon form. He was but a few feet away from the apartment when he got an _off_ vibe and chose to open the door with excessive caution.

"Bucky?" He pocketed his keys and waited by the foyer, only hurrying up after hearing what could only be called the Saddest Noise in Existence (™).

"Oh no!"

He found Bucky on his back in a pool of what looked like the chocolate syrup Sam had been thinking about having with some almond milk. The refrigerator door was wide open. Bucky twitched a bit, whimpering as his little legs wiggled in the air. 

Sam, who had watched his share of the People's Court episodes, had a feeling that he might need evidence sometime in the near future. "You're gonna hate me for this, but I have no choice," he said as he whipped out his phone and took a couple of pics. He also closed the refrigerator door, cringing at the tiny but deep raccoon claw-shaped dent on the bottom of it. And then, he took another picture of it. 

He placed the phone on the kitchen counter, walking around the mess and shaking his head. 

Thankfully, the linen closet wasn't far and he was able to find a towel that looked one step away from becoming a dishrag. He wet a corner of it in the kitchen sink, and gently patted it against the parts of Bucky's fur that were glued to the floor. Bucky had hissed as soon as he saw Sam approaching with the towel. 

"Bucky, it's either letting me do this or having to explain to Steve why I left his best friend to fend for himself until he shifted back to human because he's a glutton. You decide," Sam said in a sympathetic tone. 

In response, Bucky stopped hissing but continued to bare his teeth. 

"And that doesn't help your cause, Barnes. _My_ butt isn't the one stuck to the kitchen floor. Also, don't go scratching me as soon as you're free. Gotta get you cleaned up before you can sit me with me on the couch."

Bucky snapped his jaws shut and quieted down, only letting a quick growl out when Sam pulled his tail by mistake. It took some maneuvering and a lot of patience, but eventually, Sam walked to the bathroom, cradling Bucky and his sticky fur, mind already setting on the next task. First thing: giving Bucky a bath. 

The bathroom was spacious, a spa-ready shower on one end and a bathtub that was wide enough to accommodate at least one supersoldier body in it on the opposite side. Sam checked the water temperature before placing a leery Bucky in the middle of the tub. The water came up to Bucky's chest when he was on all fours. Sam wasn't a raccoon expert, but it seemed like it was enough water for him to wade through. There weren't any raccoon-friendly shampoos around that Sam could see, so he squirted a little bit of a body wash with a sweet but not cloying smell. 

Bucky sniffed around, half-swimming in what Sam recognized was a clockwise direction, probably making sure that the bathtub held no surprises for him. Sam had seen human Bucky do the same whenever he entered a new room. Sweeping for bugs, hidden poison darts, who knew. Based on what Sam knew about Bucky's history, his paranoia was well founded.

"Hey, Sly Cooper, come on," Sam said after watching Bucky do his third round of exploring. 

Bucky stood on his hind legs and did a noise that reminded Sam of an owl's hoot. 

"I don't care what you're saying, Bucky. Let me wash you up first and then, I dunno, I'll order us sushi for dinner." Internally, Sam winced at going from being the badass Falcon, one of Cap's best friends, to a guy in gym shorts and a sweaty t-shirt, using food to bargain with a raccoon. "Fuck my life," he mouthed.

Perhaps Bucky's observational skills were even sharper in raccoon form because he chittered for a little bit and reluctantly waddle-floated over to where Sam had crouched down. 

Bucky's fur was thick. Even with all the chocolate syrup on it, Sam had to really dig in for the suds to clean everything up. He rinsed Bucky a few times until his dark gray coat looked better. For his part, Bucky seemed to enjoy being washed. He had began purring when Sam poured more water on him. "Yeah, yeah, your raccoon majesty, nothing beats feeling clean, huh?" Sam said after draining some of the water and then letting fresher water in.

Sam had begun to stand up when he saw a medium-sized plastic cube next to the bathtub. It was filled with plastic toys. He dropped a few in carefully: a tiny boat, a floating island, and something that looked like a combination octopus and flamingo. 

Bucky snatched the last one and happily began to squeeze it until it squeaked. 

Figuring that would keep Bucky entertained for a little while, Sam stood up and left to deal with the chaos in the kitchen. He'd attempted to keep an ear on the squeaking, having learned earlier in the week that a quiet Bucky spelled out t-r-o-u-b-l-e. But he ended up zoning out while scrubbing off a particularly stubborn stain and so he nearly jumped a foot in the air when he heard a shrill noise coming from the counter. 

With his fur still wet enough to stick to his body and looking weirdly small and contrite, Bucky held up the octopus-flamingo toy to Sam. 

"All right, all right. Apology accepted," Sam said, squeezing the toy a couple of times, not even bothering to hide his giggles when he saw Bucky's ears flick every which way.

Sam returned the toy to Bucky, his eyes following the trail of water that most probably led back to the bathroom. "For the record, I'm gonna use one of _your_ towels to mop the floors," he told Bucky after rolling his eyes.

Bucky didn't seem to mind.

 

_6\. Petting is NOT optional_

For all the animal documentaries he'd watched, Sam didn't have a clear idea of how social raccoons were. And he knew even less about what kind of together time Bucky needed.

As a human, Bucky was a semi-solitary individual. He liked to hang out with Clint (that was, go to target practice), M'Baku (for wrestling), Valkyrie (ditto. Also, drinking), and Maria Hill (scrabble and chess times). And that was aside from Steve, with whom he spend enormous amounts of time. Sam ended up Bucky-adjacent a lot by virtue of hanging out with Steve. 

Bucky wasn't an exceedingly demonstrative person. Yet Sam had definitely seen him giving Maria a brief hug, patting Steve on the ass the way jocks did on national TV all the time, and, in one instance after a really tough mission, kissing the top of Wanda's head. 

All Sam had gotten from Bucky, aside from snark and aggravation, was a casual, medium-strength shove. On one occasion, Bucky had landed what Sam knew had to be a very soft punch on his right upper arm. 

Theirs was more of a verbal thing. Throwing insults at each other (in part because they both somehow knew it drove Steve nuts). It was how they checked in with each other. Problem was, none of that would help him now. For all that he knew Bucky understood him, Bucky was unable to verbalize anything more than a series of screeches, yip-yaps, and the rare howl. 

Bucky-as-a-racoon was way more curious and daring than human Bucky. That, Sam had noticed. He was constantly touching things, sometimes licking them, and, from time to time, zooming between Sam's legs to trip him up. Raccoon humor.

oOo

Sam had fallen asleep while reading a mystery novel featuring a blind detective. He woke up in the sofa, half burrito'd under a cozy flannel blanket, with a snoozing Bucky by his hip. Because of his mother's allergies, Sam hadn't grown up with indoor or outside pets. Seeing Bucky all curled up next to him made his heart flutter in a strange way.

"Hey there," he said, making sure that he telegraphed his movements. It was true that Bucky wasn't an actual raccoon, as in totally incapable of understanding human speech. But it was also true that Bucky's claws were really _sharp_. Sam dropped his hand on top of Bucky's back, letting his fingers brush the dark grey fur all the way to the juncture between Bucky's tail and butt. 

Bucky's back muscles rippled a little and he let out a soft purr. 

Now that he had the OK, Sam kept on fingerbrushing the dense coat. After a while, Bucky flipped onto his back and Sam got the hint. He kept on making a combination of petting and running his fingers through the light brown fur on Bucky's chest and belly.

Later that night, as Sam got ready for bed, his thoughts centered around the softness of the fur and wished he could compare it to the feel of Bucky's human skin. 

For once he didn't have a nightmare. Instead, he dreamed of wrestling Bucky naked and getting pinned down by him after noticing that Bucky had raccoon ears on the top of his head. He'd woken up hard and wanting (raccoon ears or no, the idea of naked Bucky always left him feeling heated). 

It was the morning of the sixth day. By now, Sam didn't even bother with pretending to lock Bucky out. Some time during the night, Bucky would sneak into the guest room, climb onto the bed, and curl up before falling back asleep. Right this moment, for example, Bucky laid on the pillow next to him, faintly snoring. 

Sam slid out of the bed, trying to radiate a relaxing vibe. Having a hard on made things a teensy bit difficult but he managed to leave the room so he could take care of business elsewhere. Jerking off next to your crush who had transformed into an animal was one step too far for Sam.

A slightly too long shower-and-jerk-off session later, Sam's everything felt way looser. He dried off, absentmindedly whistling some jingle he'd heard somewhere, and dressed up in blue sweats and his next-to-last clean t-shirt, all the while wondering if he should check in with someone at Avengers HQ. On the one hand, he was supposed to be on vacation (so it might look weird if he asked about Steve). On the other hand, Steve had said the mission wouldn't take more than a few days and it was now Day 6. On the other-other hand, he hadn't received the Avengers Assemble alert.. 

He opened the door to the bathroom, still trying to decide on what to do, only to stop in his tracks. Sitting down a few feet from the door, Bucky tilted his head as if he was gauging something. He stood on his hind legs, rubbing his paws and scenting the air flowing out of the bathroom with a lot of interest.

Sam felt his face grow warm and did his best to push any feelings of embarrassment down. He managed to sidestep around Bucky after a couple of seconds, not wanting to know what Bucky could be thinking. 

 

 _The morning after_

The first thing Sam noticed was that the room seemed to have grown warmer. Which was a little odd since he had gone to bed wearing his pajama bottoms and no socks. Right now, he was wrapped on what felt like the coziest quilt ever created. Still more asleep than awake, he opened up an eye and was immediately greeted with the fact there was a metal arm curled up around his lower torso. 

"Too early," came a whisper near his left ear. It registered in Sam's still lethargic mind as a familiar voice and therefore safe so he promptly fell back asleep.

Some hours later, the combined smells of coffee and frying bacon lured him back to wakefulness. He rubbed his hands against his closed eyes for a second, yawning before he searched for Bucky's furry shape like he'd been doing most mornings now. No one was on the bed, other than himself, but there was a heavy-ish indentation next to him. He left the bedroom, sliding a blue sweatshirt over his head on his way out, still a bit dazed by the strange half-dream.

Sam really didn't know what was more shocking: that Bucky was humming Princess Nokia's "Brujas" as he cooked breakfast or that he was back in human form. Both things were equally mind-blowing and he spent a moment or two waiting for everything to stop being weird. 

Bucky looked, well, he looked _good_. Wearing a pair of sweats and one of Sam's dirty t-shirts, everything about him was like something right out of Sam's spank bank. His body was a bit more filled out, beefier, like it had been when Steve and Sam ran into him in Romania. And yet, for all the bulkiness (and dat ass), everything about Bucky's posture was graceful and relaxed at the same time. 

"Mornin'," Sam said after what felt like an embarrassingly long time. 

Bucky turned around while flipping a pancake. "Food'll be ready soon. Go on, take a seat," he said, giving him a quick once over before he went back to cooking.

"'k," Sam replied, trying to figure out how to start talking. It was rare for him to be so tongue-tied, but this whole raccoon situation had thrown him for a loop and then some. He nodded his thanks after Bucky gave him a cup of coffee fixed with perfect sugar to cream ratio, According to Sam (™). 

He took a brief moment to check out Bucky's chest and how the vastness of it was barely contained by the t-shirt material. Tampering down the impulse to press his face against all that muscle, he drank a bit of his coffee because having sexy thoughts about Barnes was a slippery slope and he knew it.

Sam was going to hell.

"So, now you know," Bucky said after setting a large plate with pancakes and bacon on the small table and then taking a seat across Sam. He served himself four pancakes and a large pile of bacon strips. 

"It's weird, dude," Sam replied after getting his own plate ready.

"Weird?" Bucky raised an eyebrow as he poured a crapload of syrup over his stack.

"I had just gotten accustomed to seeing you running around in all fours."

Bucky's laughter was loud. It loosened the tension in Sam's stomach. The silence that followed was a pleasant one. 

Finally awake after he started his next cup of coffee, Sam waited until after Bucky had gotten a second serving to speak. "Think about it: one of the first things I saw after I came in was Steve all scratched up holding a trash panda." He shook his head as he munched on a piece of bacon. "It was a wild scene, Barnes."

"I bet it was," Bucky replied. He gulped some coffee down. "Steve had to deal with my wrath," he added, a corner of his mouth lifting. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Details get a bit hazy after I change back."

Sam made a so-so gesture. "Don't worry about it, I'll email you an invoice for all the things you destroyed. Gonna copy Steve on it too."

"Kind of harsh, don't you think?" Bucky gave him a wide-eyed look that looked straight out of a classic cartoon.

Sam waved a hand. "How come--" His phone buzzed then. Sam tapped on the screen. "It's Steve. Mission went well; he'll be back by tomorrow morning," he said, then gave Bucky a knowing look, "He also hopes you _behaved_. Then, there's a series of bunny, lipstick, and rain clouds emojis." He flipped the phone around so Bucky could read the screen.

Bucky shrugged in response. 

Sam could've left things as they were. It would've been so easy to finish his breakfast, take a shower, pack up his bag, and head on home. And everything would be the same between Bucky and him next time they met. But then, the memory of waking up with Bucky curled up around him flashed on his mind. He had no idea what had changed between that moment when Bucky had let him down over a year ago and now, but Sam was a curious fellow. Feeling a smidgen braver, he picked up his cup of coffee, enjoying another sip as he took in the sight of Bucky at his most relaxed. "So, back to your screeching at Steve when I showed up. Was it about me specifically?"

Bucky stared back at him for a moment before sopping up a piece of pancake with excessive care. "Kind felt like he'd put me on the spot because I didn't want. Well, you know."

Sam had no doubt he could wait Bucky out. Still, there was no reason to do that if he didn't want to. "I can do many things, Bucky," he said as he placed his cup back on the table. "Mind reading ain't one of them."

The eyeroll that Bucky gave him warmed Sam all over.

"Come on," Sam said, poking Bucky's shin with his right big toe. Bucky snorted in response and Sam made a mental note because Bucky potentially being ticklish was sure to come in handy one day. He let his foot slide down until it rested on top of Bucky's. 

"I'm already something of a freak and now the raccoon thing--"

"Uh-huh…" Sam poured another cup, feeling infinitely grateful that Bucky had made a full pot of coffee. 

Bucky pouted at his breakfast, his face growing redder by the second. "It's--it’s a lot. _I'm a lot_."

"Sweet mother of god, save me from melodramatic centenarians," Sam huffed playfully. "You don't own all of the real estate on freakdom, Bucky. Neither do I, Steve, Wanda, or hell, even Groot.

So what? I'm supposed to run for the hills, yelling at the top of my lungs because the guy I'm sweet on likes to occasionally build nests made out of my socks and t-shirts? I mean, if anything you should be grateful."

"What about?" Bucky scratched the stubble on his jaw.

"That _I'll_ be handsome one in this couple," Sam said as he stretched his hands out across the table, clasping Bucky's. "Think about that."

"And so humble too," Bucky replied, leaning over to kiss Sam's knuckles. Which was suave in such an unexpected way Sam could've sworn he felt the press of Bucky's lips all over his body. 

"Yeah, well." Sam cleared his throat. "I like calling it as I see it."

Bucky sat back, sadly letting go of Sam's hands in the process. "You're surprisingly calm about all of this."

"I think waking up with you in bed was a thumbs up from the universe. Besides, it's wintertime and I get awfully cold."

"Aww, you're such a romantic!" Bucky said after winking. 

 

Sam winked back.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://lucifuge5.tumblr.com/)!


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